


Erased From My Memory

by desreelee123



Category: Shame (2011)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Sexual Situations, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Childhood Trauma, Dependency, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Prostitution, Protective Siblings, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desreelee123/pseuds/desreelee123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sissy glides. Brandon follows. A butterfly lands on a flower.<br/>Can be read as standalone or sequel fic to "Writ In My Sins".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erased From My Memory

I

Brandon had just taken Sissy home from the hospital. The taxi ride home had been laden with tense glances and suffocating silence. There was simply no way to reconcile the abject brokenness that lingered between them.

Or the innate anger that he felt. The anger that stemmed from him not being able to save her. From being too cowardly to.

They arrived at his apartment just before lunch. He paid the cabbie, a fat man with a Mexican accent, the meter fee and proceeded to go to the elevators. The ride up to his floor with his sister was a silent one, none daring to utter a word to the other. After a few moments of controlled silence, the elevator doors opened and he headed to his designated apartment door, his sister trailing behind him. The New Yorker fumbled with the keys in his key ring before finding the right one to unlock his door. Once they were inside, he instructed curtly, and a little awkwardly, to his sister, “Stay by the couch. I’ll heat up lunch. After that, I’ll change your bandages.”

He felt, rather than saw, Sissy’s nod, too tired to look at her. A slight rustling of cloth indicated her moving her haphazardly strewn clothes on the couch to clear a space for her to sit on as she stared after her brother who was fishing out an aluminum foil-covered dish from his refrigerator. She reckoned it was probably leftovers from his takeout meal yesterday or a few days ago.

He still wasn’t looking at her.

_Look at me. Look at me. Look at me._

“How was work yesterday?” she asked, a futile attempt at cracking conversation.

“Fine,” her brother replied curtly, not really in the mood for a conversation with his sister that will inevitably lead up to _that_ certain type of conversation.

“Missed me?” the blonde joked, a poor semblance of a cocky smile on her face.

Brandon scoffed but did not answer as he watched the microwave platter rotate in a dizzyingly slow pace.

Sissy bit her lip.

“I’m sorry Brandon.”

She watched a sigh curl out of his lips and into the air as he gripped the granite countertop, veins practically visible through his pale and papery complexion.

He hadn’t been getting sleep as of late.

The microwave pinged and the small glass platter where their aluminum-foil covered meal was laid on top of stopped rotating. The golden light that bathed the interior of the contraption went out a few seconds after that. He opened the microwave door and fished out their food. He then grabbed two ceramic plates and two metal forks from the concrete cupboards above his head and unwrapped the aluminum foil. Inside was what appeared to be a mixture of vegetables and cream. Disgusting. But Brandon did not care. He didn’t have time to cook meals nowadays so things like these were something akin to staple food for him. He set one fork on each plate and divided the portions equally between the two plates, making sure the two forks were perfectly aligned. He threw away the foil wrapper before taking each plate in one hand and laying it down onto the wooden table by his window. A brand new Vaio laptop with a silvery sheen glinted against the sunlight beside his plate.

“New laptop?” Sissy prodded, carefully taking a seat opposite him. Brandon looked up at her momentarily before turning his attention back to his food.

“Yeah,” he clipped out as he dug into the slop. It tasted clammy and creamy at the same time, making his stomach lurch a bit.

“Well this looks disgusting,” his sister said as she picked at the food. The bandages around her wrists were colored a slight red dot in the middle.

“Stop complaining and start eating,” he took another dig into the creamy trash. “We need to get you cleaned up and your bandages replaced.”

“Let’s order pizza tonight,” she stated, taking a small portion from the dish and putting it into her mouth.

He sighed.

“If you promise to finish your food.”

He heard a giddy squeal emanate from the slight woman’s throat.

“Thank you Brandon.”

He just kept eating.

Her face fell.

-

Brandon ran the hot water and watched as his bathtub filled with water as Sissy stripped behind him. After she was fully nude, she stepped into the water and laid herself against the tub. The water shifted to accommodate her mass.

“Keep your wrists dry,” he instructed. “Hold them above water.”

She obeyed.

“Close your eyes.”

She did.

Brandon grabbed his expensive bath foam and poured some into the body sponge he was holding in his other hand. He then rinsed it with some water until little bubbles were forming before starting to clean her body. He scrubbed the sponge against her neck, making sure every piece of dirt was clinging onto the mesh material of the sponge, before traveling downwards to where her neck and chest met to her small breasts. Her nipples were pert and colored a dusty pink. He inhaled silently before traveling further downwards to her pubic area where a patch of hair covered her womanhood then down to her creamy, enticing thighs to the smooth expanse of her shins. After he had finished scrubbing her front, he told her to face downwards which she did, causing the waters to ripple a bit as she shifted positions. He did quick work of scrubbing her back, buttocks, the back of her thighs, and calves, afraid to inadvertently delve too much in the act.

“Turn around and put your head under the water for a few seconds,” he said, his voice coming out more quietly than he intended. A telltale smirk was playing on her lips as she followed his instruction.

He guessed that she had guessed what this was probably doing to him.

The raven-haired man snatched his shampoo from beside his bathroom sink and poured some of the soapy substance into his hand.

Her hair was a thick mess of bleached-blonde locks and Brandon made sure to properly rub the shampoo onto her scalp so as to make sure her hair was free of those dandruffs.

“Put your head under the water again for a few seconds,” he said again after he was finished lathing the foamy material onto her head. He rinsed her hair and scalp in a matter of a few seconds, accomplishing the task quickly.

“You can open your eyes now,” he gestured to the mass of cloths beside the sink. “Those are the towels and your clothes are on top. Get dressed. I’ll wait for you at the kitchen.”

Brandon stood up and exited the bathroom. Sissy followed two minutes after. The darker-haired sibling started opening the sealed bandage package that they had bought from the hospital drugstore, taking two plastic-wrapped bandages out as he removed the old bandages from Sissy’s wrists. He didn’t miss the hitch in her breath as he accidentally brushed over the open wounds a little too roughly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, the apology hollow in his ears. Apologies rarely mattered to him. He wrapped the new bandages around her wrists gingerly, his touch gentler than when he removed her old bandages.

Actual action was what mattered more to him.

“How did we get here?” his sister asked suddenly, startling him out of the radio silence in his mind.

He looked up, eyes, for a moment, full of emotion. But it went as fast as it came.

“I wouldn’t know Sissy,” he said gruffly as he dropped her wrists.

-

She was always the one who left him. That was a fact. She was like a ghost, flitting in and out of his consciousness. Each time she came back, she didn’t stay long but she always made sure that she did something during that particular stay for him to remember her by.

And she had left enough so that he wouldn’t forget her.

II

Life passed by.

And there was nothing Sissy could do to stop it.

He was like a wax statue, a living, breathing wax statue. He went through life as if nothing had changed. As if she had not just tried to commit suicide a week ago.

But what could she expect? He was always like that.

After all, a wax statue did not feel.

-

“I’m home,” Sissy announced a little too cheerfully as she walked in through the apartment door of her brother’s bachelor pad.

She received no reply from her brother who was lounging on the couch where she slept. The blonde dropped her things beside her brother and took a seat on the other side that was left free. He was watching cartoons again. She planted a kiss on his cheek to catch his attention. He said nothing but she certainly did not miss the small flinch that accompanied his supposedly nonchalant reaction.

“How was work?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“Did you order pizza tonight?”

“No, I ordered Chinese food.”

She groaned overdramatically.

“Brandon, we’ve been living on Chinese takeout for like five days now. Can’t you be bothered to order something else?”

He turned his head to look at her, a small smile playing on his face.

“No,” he said simply. Sissy smiled up at him, grateful for the small display of happiness.

“Next time, I’m ordering the food around here,” the singer declared.

Brandon laughed. “Feel free to do so.”

“But it’s sorta unfair,” she whined. “You always get home earlier than I do.”

“Exactly.”

They both laughed.

-

It was midnight and Sissy couldn’t sleep. She had the strong urge to go to her brother’s room and cuddle up next to him. It was raining outside. The soft patter of the raindrops against the windowsill distracted her out of unconsciousness.

She sighed and turned onto her side.

She decided she would sleep alone tonight.

-

“Do you go on dates?” she asked one morning. They were both having breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast. The usual.

The spontaneity and absurdity of the question jarred him out of silence and elicited a small smile from him.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re going grey—

They both knew where this conversation was heading.

“Sissy, I don’t wanna talk about this,” he states sternly, not meeting her eyes.

“Okay.”

-

She was a selfish person. If she cared more of him than herself, she would just stop bothering him and get out of his life.

But she can’t because she loved him.

And she knew that no matter how hard he tried to kick her out of his life, he will never succeed in doing so.

III

One day as he was walking home from work, opting to take the long way today, he passed by the small abandoned wharf at the loneliest part of New York. The waters were calm today, lapping softly against the wood of the docks. Brandon couldn’t resist and found the broken part of the fence that served as the barrier from the city and the wharf and crossed the threshold that led into that wharf. He walked straight until he reached his favorite spot at the edge of the planks where there were no barriers anymore but just the wide, open sea.

He breathed deeply and just allowed his mind to shut down for a moment.

This was the only place in town that didn’t remind him of the bad place he and his sister came from. The bad place neither one of them would go back to.

He closed his eyes and saw Marianne in all her dark beauty. Then he saw Sissy with her broken eyes and sad expressions and his world almost shattered right then and there.

He let out a broken sigh.

-

Sissy ordered pizza.

Pepperoni in fact. He hated pepperoni.

And he was quite frankly sure that she did this on purpose.

“Welcome home brother,” she smiled warmly at him.

He couldn’t help but smile back himself.

-

It was ten in the evening and it was raining again.

Sissy was in Brandon’s arms and they were both watching black-and-white episodes of Looney Tunes in his living room.

They both couldn’t sleep.

“Brandon,” she called out softly, her voice sleepy.

“Hmm?” he answered, a little drowsy himself.

“Do you think we can ever be normal?”

He did not answer.

-

He did not have any illusions that they could be fixed.

In fact, he didn’t even try to fix himself.

But for her, he can try.

IV

Sissy padded silently through the carpeted floor of her brother’s bedroom and crept silently under his covers.

“Sissy—

“Shh,” she cut off. “I can’t sleep.”

She wrapped one of her legs through his and realized that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The blonde snaked a hand tentatively around his chest and when he didn’t protest, she left it there.

“I saw you before, during one of my first gigs here in New York,” she whispered.

She received no response from him. Typical. But at least it wasn’t a yell like the last time.

“I love you Brandon,” she said as she planted a kiss on his neck.

She didn’t miss the hitch in his breath.

-

They didn’t talk about it the morning after. It was kept like a dirty little secret between them, stored away inside their heads with the other dirty little secrets they kept between them.

He made breakfast for her every day. They ate the same thing every day. Eggs, bacon, toast.

“Mmm,” she said as he laid down her plate in front of her. He did not reply, as usual.

He did not speak much during the mornings.

She glanced at him tentatively.

“So, a bar downtown just texted me this morning, said they wanted me to sing for tonight,” she started. “Can you come? Just you…please?”

Brandon paused.

“Okay, I will.”

Sissy stomped her feet against the hardwood floor giddily.

“Just you okay?”

“Yeah.”

-

Sissy picked out a silver cocktail dress that showcased her long legs and her hair was placed in an elegant coiffure. She was going to sing a piano rendition of Natalie Cole’s “I Wish You Love”. She always had an affinity for cabaret renditions of American songs.

She looked at her watch. Two hours until showtime. The blonde kept checking at her watch all throughout her rehearsal session, silently anticipating and dreading the time when she would be performing in front of a group of ten or, at most, twenty people.

But deep inside, she was silently dreading that he would not come. _Her brother was a lot of things but he was not a forgiving person._

Then before she knew it, the manager of the bar told her to go take a break and wait for her cue. Her breath hitched in her throat as her feet took her to her place backstage. She went to her bag and fished out her phone. Brandon always informed her in some way if he wasn’t coming to her gigs. When she found no pending voicemails or missed calls or messages, a small weight was lifted off her chest. She checked her appearance on the mirror. She needed to apply a little more foundation.

Ten more minutes passed.

She could now hear the chatter of various people from behind the red velvet curtains of the cabaret bar. Her cue could come any minute now.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Welcome—_

The blonde checked her makeup and hair. Nothing was out of place.

_“—and we present to you—_

That was her cue.

She didn’t feel her feet take her from her seat behind the mirror to the stage. All she heard was the distant clicking of stilettos.

Then the band started playing. She instinctively felt her mouth croon the soulful lyrics as her eyes frantically scanned the crowd for her brother. He was nowhere to be found.

_I wish you bluebirds in the spring…_

The crowd was totally engrossed in her voice. He was still nowhere to be found.

_…and then a kiss but more than this…_

A waiter dressed in a shiny vest served a martini to a young man with blue eyes. He smiled up at her but she ignored him.

_…and in July, a lemonade, to cool you in a leafy glade…_

A blonde waitress whose name was Maria escorted a well-dressed man to a corner table. But the man wasn’t Brandon.

_…I wish you wealth, and more than wealth, I wish you love…_

Just then, a man, tall and brooding with beautiful, dark blue eyes dressed in a navy blue polo shirt was escorted by a redheaded waitress whose breasts were too large for her physique to be considered real to a table. He made eye contact with her and his mouth tilted upwards minutely.

_…that you and I could never be, so with my best, my very best, I set you free…_

She smiled at him, her teeth glistening in the spotlight, as she watched him order a martini from the same waitress who escorted him to that table. Sissy didn’t need to hear him say what he was ordering. She could very much see his lips forming the word.

_…I wish you shelter from the storm…_

His eyes were fixated on her. Sissy felt as if they were just the two people in this club and she was singing to him.

_…but most of all, when snowflakes fall, I wish you love…_

She tore her eyes away from him and started glancing at the other people in this club. Clearly the young man with the blue eyes was infatuated with her.

_My breaking heart, I agree, that you and I could never be…_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brandon finally tear his eyes away from her as a waiter placed a martini in front of him. He held it to his mouth and sipped.

_I wish you shelter from the storm…_

Sissy couldn’t see his face clearly now as it was hidden away from her by the low light.

_A cozy fire to keep you warm…_

She watched him avert his eyes from her. He took another sip of his martini.

_But most of all, when snowflakes fall, I wish you love._

The pianist ended with a flourish of sad notes and the club crowd clapped. Some were even cheering and whistling. Sissy smiled at them. She always liked it when people enjoyed her performance.

The blonde stepped off the stage and headed for her brother’s table. He was looking away from her, his eyes fixated on his drink.

“So how was I?”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide as if startled.

“Huh? Oh yeah, you were very good,” he blurted out. “What do you want to drink?”

She beamed at him. “Thanks. I’ll have what you’re drinking.”

He raised his hand to call over a waiter.

-

She knew she drove a wrench in him every time she sung. He just couldn’t take it when she sung. It was like a thousand knives piercing through his heart. She sung of love and brokenness and a flailing sense of reality.

And he couldn’t do anything but listen.

V

Brandon didn’t mind much like he used to in having his sister around his house, for all her untidiness and disruptions, just as long as she didn’t do anything foolish and stupid like leave him again or sleep with his boss in his own bed or do anything to cross any lines they had left between them.

Well, technically, she almost did the other night. But almost was never an exact measurement of things.

He snuck out to a bar after she was fast asleep the night before after they both went home after her gig. It was a bar he frequented to. High-end. Classy. He ordered a glass of Johnnie Walker and danced with a girl named Lola, or was it Lorrie? He couldn’t remember. All he could remember was the sound of her moans as he plowed into her in the alley at the back of the club that night.

Sissy didn’t know of this little fixation. He didn’t want to let her know of this fixation.

“Hey Brandon,” she said in a singsong manner the morning after.

As usual, he didn’t utter anything in reply. A gruff little sound escaped his lips as she latched herself onto his back. It was Saturday. He didn’t have to go to work today.

Brandon could feel the thinness of her shirt and the softness of her breasts on his back.

On second thought, he did mind her being here.

“Sissy, stop,” he gritted out as he pried her off his back. The sound of frying bacon permeated through the air.

“Thanks for coming though,” she said, her voice a little meek after a while.

He didn’t know what that warm feeling in his gut was.

“Yeah,” he opted instead because the other answers sounded too cheesy inside his head. And Brandon certainly wasn’t that kind of person. Emotions just weren’t his best suit.

He got two plates from the cupboards and separated the bacon into the two plates. He didn’t have eggs today so they’d just have to make do with bacon and toast.

The wounds in Sissy’s wrists had healed well enough that she didn’t need any more bandages but the scars were there, the numerous scars that had gathered there ever since they were teenagers.

For Brandon, those were the badges of his incompetence.

He looked away.

-

The next thing Brandon knew, he was in a club uptown. It was a seedy little place lodged between two abandoned brick buildings that looked like it used to be sweatshops in the twenties and thirties. It was not a place he went to unless he was deeply, deeply desperate and didn’t want to go exert any efforts in chasing “more proper” women.

“Hey Brandon,” a woman wearing torn garter stockings and a tank top that was at least two sizes too small on her called out. She flexed her legs against her tight leather skirt. “This is a bit too early for you. You want me to dress in something more proper so we can go back to your apartment?”

He leaned in on her and whispered in her ear, “No, here is fine.”

She smiled and they went to the back of the club. Her hips sashayed and Brandon couldn’t help but stare at her derriere. He hated himself.

She hiked her skirt up and pulled her panties down. She knew just exactly how he wanted her.

“Blow-job today?”

His vision was too muddled up and he didn’t feel himself say yes. All he saw was her sinking to her knees and all he heard was the sound of his zipper.

-

He came home a while later. The only indication he had how long he had been gone was the sky. It was colored a bright blue hue when he had gone and now it was painted a bright, golden yellow, already signaling the onslaught of dusk. All he felt before that were the paved New York sidewalks and the smiling girls.

Sissy was nowhere to be found. Not that surprising. It was the weekend and she was probably off scoring gigs somewhere.

He checked his phone. There were several voicemails that he hadn’t listened to, no doubt from his sister.

_Brandon, where are you? It’s already lunch._

_Brandon, Brandon, Brandoooon!_

_It’s past lunch. I hope you’re eating somewhere._

_Ugh! Brandon, I thought we were past this._

_Whatever, I’m going out. Be sure to get home for dinner or something. I don’t want to see your dead face splashed all over the morning news tomorrow._

_Brandon, I’m heading to a bar._

And that was when the voicemails stop. He sighed and pushed down his feelings of guilt deep inside his brain where nobody could see it or hear of it. Locked up and screwed shut.

He was screwed up.

The brunette dialed the number of his favorite Chinese takeout place and placed his usual order. He placed an extra just in case Sissy wanted dinner when she got home. He powered up his new laptop and went to his usual webcam site. It took a few moments for her to go online but eventually, a blonde girl dressed in sexy lingerie appeared.

“Hey Brandon, back for more?”

“You know what I want,” he addressed her gruffly.

Sex was a way to forget.

Her hands found her way into her panties and feminine moans started filling the room.

Sex made him forget.

He felt himself start growing hard and he unzipped and freed his member.

Sex was another pain in itself. Pleasure and pain mingled together to form a giant monster.

He started stroking as her moans increased.

“Play with your tits.”

And she obeyed. Slut.

He stroked himself harder as they both neared orgasm.

She moaned louder on camera.

He stroked harder.

Finally, she came with a scream and he let himself go with a grunt.

“Well, that was—

He slammed the laptop lid closed. He watched as the mess of his fluids dribbled down on the cushion of his seat.

He sighed.

Just then, his doorbell rang. He stood up and went to the door. As expected, a delivery boy, freckle-faced and gangly, held up two plastic bags with his orders. He brought out ten dollars from his pocket and gave it to the delivery boy.

“Thanks man,” the boy mouthed as Brandon shut the door on him. He brought the plastics to the small dining table by the window and proceeded to get paper towels to wipe his mess up. He also needed a change of boxers and pants. He probably needed to make a trip to the dry cleaner later.

His phone rang. He let it until it finally stopped. Brandon palmed it and played the voicemail.

_Brandon please, help me. I’m at a bar at the 4 th. Some guys are trying to--_

-

He called her phone one time, two times, three times…all throughout the cab ride to 4th.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the 4th. Brandon knew there was only one bar at the 4th, a small, cabaret thing that he wouldn’t be surprised if his sister scored a gig there.

He rushed through the doors of the small pub. The bar was empty and there were small yelps that were coming from the bathroom at the back of the pub. He immediately rushed to the bathroom, bumping into several wooden tables in the cramped space in the process. He broke down the flimsy wooden door and found two guys holding Sissy down, as one of the guys got ready.

“Brandon!” the blonde exclaimed, happiness a palpable emotion in her voice.

The darker-haired sibling didn’t even hear her exclamation as he grabbed one of the men and pummeled him unconscious. The other man brought out a knife. Brandon felt his hands moving of its own accord and doing the same to that man what he had done to his partner. He distantly heard Sissy calling 911 and asking for help as he let go of the unconscious man.

The blonde then moved to hold him in her arms. They stayed like that for a few moments before Sissy felt blood, not hers, oozing into her palm.

“Brandon,” she said breathily as she pulled away from him, her hand colored a deep scarlet. “You’re bleeding.”

He shook his head and held her close until sirens started wailing in the background.

-

He knew that they couldn’t let each other go permanently…no matter how they tried…no matter how much he tried.

They were imprints in each other’s hearts, coiled tight around the ventricles and the arteries.

They had no one else but each other.

VI

Sissy watched his eyes flutter open as a flurry of emotion flooded her senses. Funny how fast their roles had switched. Only about a week or two ago she was the one lying down on the hospital bed while he sat by her side. Now it was he who was lying down on the bed while she watched over him.

“Hey,” she put on her best smile. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, eyes heavy.

Her smile widened. They stayed like that for a while before she finally averted her eyes.

“Brandon, can I ask you a question?”

She watched him nod slowly.

“What did you do when you disappeared?”

He heaved a sigh and left the question unanswered. Sissy didn’t persist. She knew it was probably something he didn’t like to talk about and she was fine with that. Everybody’s got skeletons in their closets.

After a while, he mouthed to her, “I’m sorry Sissy.”

She smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

“It’s okay Brandon. Everything will be okay.”

-

It’s seven in the morning again and Brandon’s making her breakfast.

“I have a gig tonight. Wanna come?” she asked tentatively as she went to hug him from his back.

“Sure,” he grunted as he watched the bacon fry. She kissed him on the neck happily and hopped off his back. He remained stoic in his position, drowsy and unresponsive.

“Come alone, please?” she half-begged and he nodded. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards. “I’ll pick a special song for you tonight.”

He didn’t answer as he divided their breakfast into equal portions between the two plates.

-

Later that night, Sissy snuck into his room again and slid up beside him. She didn’t bother to wrap her arms around him this time though but just settled there where they were almost touching but not quite so, close enough for her to smell the shampoo he had used today and the detergent used to clean his shirt. She knew that he knew she was there but just didn’t bother to acknowledge it. Maybe he was already too tired from work to do so.

After a while, her eyelids get heavy and she drifted off into Slumberland, facing away from him.

-

Brandon and Sissy woke up at six-thirty the next morning. Brandon had immediately headed to the kitchen and made them both breakfast then, after finishing his, headed off to shower. Sissy stayed behind for a few moments then went off to get dressed.

They were out of the house by seven.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey readers! I hoped you liked it. Pardon me if there are grammar mistakes or small inconsistencies. I wrote this to get over my pre-school year depression. One more day left til classes start! Boohoo! Anyway, constructive criticism, as usual, is very much welcome.


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